Mystery
by Spontaneous Fiction
Summary: Bill is frustrated. The Gravity Falls we know is off his radar, giving him nothing but static. Mysterious messages are encoded into the static, but what do they mean? Meanwhile, a twelve-year old Madison is just starting middle school and desperately tries to fit in. The question remains though: what exactly does "fitting in" entail? (I hate summaries BTW. Just read it)
1. Prologue: An Emergency Tea Party

**A/N :** Yellow everyone. Welcome to my first Gravity Falls fanfic. (Midnight's Haze bullied me into uploading the prologue. *shakes fist* _I'LL GET YOU BACK FOR THIS HAZE!_) Before we get started (in other words: where you start reading) lemme explain this prologue just a bit. I have an OC named Bill (named 'im after Bill Cipher I did) who will occasionally make appearances. He is the Master of Thought Process in my head and has similar reality altering powers that Bill Cipher does. Similar. Not exactly the same. Cipher is a dream demon, MY Bill is not. So in this story they're gonna be sort of like business partners. Hope that's clear. Also, it's hard to write both of these guys in a single scene (same name and blahblablah). I hope you don't get very confused. That's all from me right now. **Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer:** I am a 17-year-old idiot at a laptop, and have no official rights to the original characters created by Alex Hirsh, our Lord and King. All of the characters are copyrighted to him, and I have no ownership of them. Only my OC's and crazy plot lines. Let's get this party started.

Prologue: An Emergency Tea Party

Bill never expected house calls. After all, he was the Head of Thought Process (literally). How in the hypothalamus did one get house calls or regular calls anyways, especially when you're a figment of someone's thoughts? You didn't, pure plain and simple. Yet, on one of the few days off that Bill had, his phone rang. It was an old rotary (Bill was an old-fashioned kind of guy, even for tech that was only supposed look showy- like a damn phone) he picked up at a thrift shop. It wasn't supposed to ring. But it was now.

Bill's obsidian eyes stared angrily at the object as the receiver end rattled against its stand. The book he was reading snapped shut (a copy of _Good Omens_ by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman) and he approached the phone, gingerly picking up the receiver. He first heard static on the other end.

"Hello?" he said into it. There was no answer. For Conscience sake there _shouldn't_ be in the first place! It wasn't a real phone! Bill considered hanging up. The static on the phone cleared a bit. Then there was a voice.

"Bill? Hello? Damn it stupid connection, nothing works anymore," it said. If Bill had any blood (he didn't) it would have run cold. The speaker on the other end sounded almost exactly like him. A more…mechanical and auto-tuned version of his voice, granted, but still too similar.

"…Bill?" he said hesitantly. The static amount lowered again before his correspondent answered.

"There we go, sorry 'bout that buddy. Cross-dimensional calls aren't exactly working properly here," Other Bill said. Bill narrowed his eyes in confusion. Original Bill, mind you. The one with the "phone-that-works-but-shouldn't-cause-its-not-a-real-phone". There hadn't ever been any connection trouble before. Then again, no one ever called him on his non-home phone before either. There were firsts for everything he guessed.

"Bill, what do you want? No, more importantly how the hell did you get this number, _this isn't even a real phone it shouldn't have a number!" _He said angrily into the device. There was a sigh on the other end as Other Bill replied, "I know, and I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't important. Look, we need to talk in person. You gotta trust me on this." Bill pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

"Damn it, I'm on _vacation_. This better be big Bill," he said.

"It is,"

* * *

Bill found himself half an hour later sitting at a nice outdoor-type café with a porcelain cup half filled with a dark brown tea. Across from him, was his…sort of friend (more like business partners in actuality) Bill. This Bill however, was a dream demon. Both Bills were at a place the dream demon had conjured up in the universal mindscape. Everything else around them was mostly abyssal white, with odd bits and ends floating randomly around. All of those objects were devoid of color, including the café. Bill sipped at his tea thoughtfully, savoring the bitter taste of it. An old radio (1950's era he guessed) floated by him, giving out the occasional blip of radio static and some broadcasts in between. Through the static one could vaguely hear, "_but first, predeceased, I give you the weather_" in a menacing tone before it passed out of hearing range. Bill swirled his cup, watching the old radio move along.

"Alright, so what was so urgent you called my vintage and non-working phone and got me out of a well-earned vacation?" he said taking another sip of his drink. The floating triangle in front of him snapped his fingers. A screen appeared beside them, showing some old town. It was daytime in the footage, and little dark figures that appeared to be people where going about their usual business. Nothing unusual it seemed.

"What am I looking at Bill?" the figment of thought asked in a tired voice.

"Gravity Falls," Bill replied. Another snap and the screen cut to an old house in the woods. Bill the Figment placed his cup on the table, narrowing his eyes at the image. It was vaguely familiar.

"I've seen this somewhere before," he murmured, racking his brains to remember where.

"I'm sure you have. Now, the images that I've shown you are from a few days ago," the demon said. More images flicked one after another on the screen. Same town, same normalcy.

"Then what's the big issue?" Bill asked. There was an unnatural pause. Bill looked over at the triangle demon, who seemed…distressed. No, he didn't look distressed. He looked concerned. Was this Bill even capable of feeling an emotion like concern? He was capable of anger, everyone knew that. The demon even had a strange sense of humor. But concern didn't seem like it was part of the spectrum.

The look was gone in a flash, and Bill snapped his black fingers again. This time, there was static on the square screen.

"This is real-time footage of Gravity Falls. For once, I can't see what's going on in real-time," Bill said. His fingers tapped against the table. The other Bill was simply staring at the black and white spotted screen, color inverted eyes blank.

"You've always been able to see real-time haven't you?" he asked. The demon nodded, still drumming against the table.

"What about other places besides the town," he continued. Bill shrugged. "They're not as interesting, but I'm getting the same kind of static, just in less focus. If I were to change to say, Burma," the screen changed to said place. A jungle setting could be seen, though there was a less opaque smattering of the same black and white static.

"I've done some checking. The farther from Gravity Falls, Oregon, the less amount of static. There's always some, but it's more concentrated the closer you get to the town," he explained.

"So you think something's going on in the town?" Bill asked, still staring at the screen, which had switched back to the heavily spotted one that should have pictured Gravity Falls.

"I know something's happening. I've always been able to see that town Bill, always. There has to be interference of some kind that's counter-acting my powers," he said in frustration. His black fingers tapped against the table harder. The other Bill had leaned forward in his chair, intent on the screen. The demon rolled his eye and continued his tapping. Tap, tone. Pause, tap-tone-tap. Another pause, and the same rhythm repeated. Tap tap, pause, and three taps. The other Bill's eyes widened.

"Bill, why are you tapping that rhythm?" he asked quietly. The sound stopped. Both Bills looked at each other, one with growing understanding, the other a little confused. He looked at his black hand and said, "I don't know,"

"You have a remote for this screen thing?" The other Bill suddenly asked. There was a flash of blue fire, and he was holding a small black remote. Non-Demon Bill fiddled with the buttons on it, until the sound of static was slowed down considerably. Both could make out a bunch of tones, long and short, in the background of the static. It was a message. Out of his black waistcoat, the non-demon extracted a pen and pad, and began jotting down the tones. There was nearly a minute of silence from the screen. Then the rhythm started again. Bill put down dots and lines on the pad. The screen once again went to a minute long lapse of silence. That must have been the message. Demon Bill floated over the table to look at what his "friend" had put down.

**.- .-. .-. .. ...- .- .-..**

"I don't get it," the demon said after a while. Bill face-palmed, wondering how he could even call himself "all-knowing".

"Its morse codes you Dorito," he explained. The other rolled his eye in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, but what's it mean?" They both stared at the series of dots and lines scribbled on paper. Both of them tried deciphering it mentally, coming up with different answers, none of which made any sense. As they worked (not exactly as a team, mind you) they failed to notice a darker blotch of static slowly appearing on Bill's real-time Gravity Falls channel. It grew bigger, taking on a human silhouette. The tones started again, but unbeknownst to the Bills, it was different this time.

**\- .. - . / ... ... .- .-.. .-.. / . -. -.. / .. -. / -.. .- .-. -.- -. . ... ...**

**A/N**: I love cliffhangers, don't you? Alright, tell me what you think. I've been paranoid about this prologue for ages, so give me some mental relief guys. Next chapter will be up when I've completed my second mental paranoia, and it'll get into some other characters as well. First person to identify the radio station that transmitted the "but first predeceased I give you the weather" quote, and deciphers my messages gets a high five and a mention in the next update. Thank.


	2. Chapter 1: Day One

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait all of you who've been expecting an update. Well, wait no more cause here's the official chapter one! Shout-out to both **Midnight's Haze** and **Hylian Goddess Lillian** for deciphering my little message, and the highest of fives to Hylian Goddess Lillian who figured out my little reference in the previous chapter. To those of you that haven't figured out either yet: the message is just some fun foreshadowing, while the radio transmission is just a fandom reference. Now then, let's kick this thing into full gear! Allons-y!

**Disclaimer:** I am a 17 year-old idiot at a laptop, and have no official rights to the original characters created by Alex Hirsh, our Lord and King. All of the characters from the show are copyrighted to him, and I have no ownership of them. My OC's however are my own, and I take ownership of their lives. Which I probably shouldn't, as I'm a horrible character care-taker.

Chapter 1: Day One

_-Beep beep beep beep-_

A hand flew to the nightstand, desperately trying to shut off the annoying morning signal of horror and depression. It was also known by normal people as an alarm clock. After a few unsuccessful tries at hitting the OFF button, the owner of the hand groaned and rolled over closer to the machine, finally slamming a hand down on the button to silence its infernal beeping. Staring in apathy at the ceiling the girl sighed and wondered vaguely if it was even worth getting up at that time.

"Madison! I heard your alarm, so you had better get ready! Remember, first day of school," her father's voice called out from downstairs. Madison groaned again. Now she had no other option but to get up. She threw back her covers and stretched, managing to pop both of her shoulders as she did so. Then the 12 year-old got ready for the undoubtedly long day ahead of her.

One quick shower and a carefully made wardrobe decision later, she stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom, examining her reflection. Her brown hair wasn't straightened for a change (she usually styled it that way), so the long locks flowed in a slightly curly tumble from the top of her head down to her mid-back. Her chocolate brown eyes shone above a smattering of light freckles on her full cheeks. All in all, she didn't look half bad. Concealed under her maroon shirt was a shining silver pentagram on a knotted leather strip necklace. Madison's hand went to it briefly, brushing against the cold metal that had become almost a good luck charm for her in the years of her owning it. She hoped it would keep up with that streak today. Brushing off her maroon colored shirt and her flower patterned skirt, Madison grabbed her favorite pair of sneakers and her new backpack (filled with new school supplies) and went downstairs for her breakfast.

Her dad was waiting for her at the table, face hidden behind a large _Ashland_ _Daily Tidings_ newspaper, but ruffled brown hair could be seen from over the newsprint. He was in his usual day-to-day kind of outfit: tan undershirt with a blue plaid long-sleeve over-shirt. Typical combo, though not the kind that would make heads turn at a fashion demo. Madison's dad always reasoned that he was "a busy guy and the fate of the world shouldn't depend on him wearing designer shirts and tight pants". He left that to other people (like Madison's aunt) and kept his comfort combo. Madison of course had a contrasting viewpoint on this, so to make up for her dad's fashion incompetence she became the clothes guru for the both of them. You could imagine the Wal-Mart trips.

On the table across from him was a plate of toast, eggs and slices of orange. She set down her things by her seat on her way to their fridge, grabbing an apple juice-box from it before settling down and tucking into her quick breakfast. As always, the eggs weren't salted but at least the toast hadn't been burned within an inch of its life. According to her dad that incident hadn't been so much his fault as much as it was that their toaster was possessed by the ghost of a pyromaniac intent on killing them by improper cooking methods. Madison joked that he should keep the eggs salted to prevent some chicken demon from killing them too.

"No such thing," he had told her. "I've checked." After that comment Madison made no attempt to question her father's food choices.

Madison chowed down on her non-possessed and non- dangerous food while her dad kept shuffling through the paper. There was a loud crinkling sound as he folded it up and tossed it to the side over to their growing magazine pile.

"Too long, didn't read," he said simply. Madison looked up from her plate and took a sip from her juice-box. She wondered why he even bothered reading local papers anyways. It wasn't like he was ever interested in normal day-to-day things anyways. The man only ever looked for "odd" things. "Odd" only really covered the general area however. Try more supernatural however, and you had the guy's attention 1000%.

"Right, so first day of school," he said, breaking the silence. Madison groaned.

"Dad, don't give me the 'first day of school' speech again please," she said, giving him an agonized look. Her father raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Tired of it already?" he asked. The twelve-year old tossed what remained of her orange at him, saying, "I only got tired of it after fifth grade."

"It's a list, Dad. Any half-wit could memorize a list," she continued.

"Ah, but I would hope through public education you wouldn't be the average half-wit," he replied, tossing the orange so rudely aimed at him to their garbage can. Madison crinkled her nose at him and went to finish her other orange slice. As she sucked on the fruit her dad placed a small brown parcel on the table, and slid it casually across to her. The box was maybe the size of a cell phone, and she picked it up, turning it in her hands as she inspected it.

"And this would be…?"

"Gift from your aunt," he said, indicating that she open it. Madison did so, tearing off the brown paper to reveal a white jewelry case. A gold printed font on the box told her it had come from Turkey. She lifted the lid of the case. Lying on a foam slip was a blue/green corded bracelet with a glass charm hanging off of it. The charm itself was small, a deep blue covering most of it, yet in the center were circles of white and a lighter sky blue. A black dot completed the piece. Altogether it looked like someone had gouged out someone's eye and minimized it and turned it into glass. Madison looked at her dad questioningly, but he only shrugged.

"Ghost charm from Turkey I think. Locals believe the eye scares away ghost and other harmful spirits. She said it works, but take your aunts advice with a grain of salt," he warned. Madison hummed in agreement, but slid the bracelet on anyways, adjusting it so it hung more comfortably on her wrist. At the very least the corded part was nice. The charm on the other hand wasn't what you would call "eye candy". It stared blankly at her from its spot on the bracelet, like it was glaring through the veil or something. _Creepy factor 10+,_ Madison thought, yet she couldn't stop looking at the weird thing. It was like the world's most distracting object or something.

"What's Auntie doing in Turkey?" she asked, still in her private staring contest with the glass eye.

"Some research I think on Turkish fashion. She said in her letter she wanted to integrate Eastern Mediterranean aspects of clothing into her new line or something. Also a friend of hers was…sailing there or something, so she wanted to meet up," he said.

Their grandfather clock suddenly chimed, jolting her out of her thoughts. She glanced the time quickly before cramming the last of her eggs in her mouth and grabbing her backpack. Her dad calmly rose from his seat at the table, moving to the front door to open if for her as she rushed about. The girl grabbed some last minute items before finally rushing out to the door to meet the school bus. Her dad plopped something on her head as she exited, and she reached up to find it was her favorite cap. She smiled up at it and jogged out to the sidewalk where a yellow school bus was lazily coming up the street to meet her. She turned at the curb back to her house, where her dad was still waiting in the archway of the front door, leaning against the frame.

"See ya Dad!" Madison called, raising her hand in farewell and adjusting the white and blue cap with the other. Her father only raised hand back to her in reply, watching as she got on the yellow/orange bus and found a seat. He waited until it was far down the lane before moving to shut the front door.

* * *

Ashland Middle School was the epitome of ordinary in your typical American middle school. However, it was unique in that it only housed two grades: seventh and eighth grade, whereas a lot of others in the U.S had the 6-8 system instead. Why it did this was a good question, the answer to which no one was seemingly able to answer. So the rest of the town just kind of went with the idea. Middle schoolers of course had no opinion on the matter. All of them had just decided that school sucked all around, and whether or not they had to add sixth graders into the mix wouldn't have made the experience any better or worse. And it wasn't like adults put their opinion into consideration anyways. They were kids, what would they know about grade placement and the greater good of public education?

As Madison's bus rolled up to the orange pastel building, she swung her legs back and forth on the seat with nervous energy. This was one of the only times that she was starting the school year the same day as everyone else. She and her dad traveled a lot, and during that time she found it was rare to ever start school on the actual first day of the semester. Not that she blamed her dad for that or anything. The guy just liked to travel a lot, looking for things to write about in his book. He was a published author with a small level of fame tailing him on the East Coast. His series of young adult mystery books kept him and Madison afloat financially for years. After years of endless cross-country trips they had settled in one town so that Madison could have at least two years in one school for a change, by Madison's constant insistence. The location was left to her dad though, and after some thought, Ashland, Oregon had ended up being the place.

So here she was now. The doors to the bus opened with a hiss of air, and kids all stood up with their different things to exit and make their way to the main building. Hands tightly gripping the shoulder straps to her backpack, Madison followed. The sound of hundreds of kids clamoring and shouting met her ears as she hopped off, and she looked around the crowd of them to find where the cafeteria was at. The school counselor had told her and her dad that new schedules were always handed out in there, as it was the best place to fit hundreds of kids. Besides the auditorium of course. A paper sign on the side of the main building pointed her in the right direction, and she followed the red arrow's advice, falling in step behind a crowd of other kids.

The first thing she noticed about the cafeteria was its simplicity. There wasn't much to it besides a bunch of long brown tables, its gray/blue walls, and what she assumed was the kitchens behind the metal shutters on the other end. Another sign told her where to find the seventh grade schedules, which were being handed out by one teacher and student volunteers. There were separate piles as the sheets were organized by students' last names, and Madison looked for the pile that would have her sheet in it. There was a short line for her group and within two minutes or so the girl found herself standing in front of one of the student volunteers.

The kid was her age, she guessed, with a mass of curly red hair, prominent freckles and large round glasses. He adjusted them as she moved up in the line.

"Name?" he asked.

"Madison. Madison Pines."

***A/N*:** There we go. The ball is rolling now! Whether or not is uphill/downhill is up for debate. Reviews are always appreciated here by the way! Many thanks to everyone who has submitted one already. I love reading what you have to say. Also, if I screw up my story in the future (like, format wise) its because I'm a n00b at this FanFiction thing and have no clue how to update stories and add chapters. This is so high maintenance.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Firstly I want to apologize for not updating this since WWII, honestly I have no good excuse for it so I won't bother you all with one. My short little break with this has given me a chance to decide where I want to go with the story and what I want to give my audience. So, if you give me some of your patience, I'd like to continue on with this and hopefully you'll continue to enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** I am a 17 year-old idiot at a laptop, and have no official rights to the characters of Gravity Falls, created by Alex Hirsh, our Lord and King. All of the characters from the show are copyrighted to him, and I have no ownership of them. My OC's however are my own, and I take ownership of their lives. I do not of course take responsibility for any trauma and/or mutilation, lacerations, incinerations, or other kinds of injury that occurs to the characters. What am I, the government?

**Chapter 2: 1, 2, 3, FIGHT**

"Pines, Pines. Hang on a sec here," the red-haired kid flipped through the stack looking her schedule. While he was doing that, Madison took the opportunity to look around the cafeteria and familiarize herself with it. The walls were a kind of slate gray painted on top of the bricks that made up the building. It had a high ceiling, with bright white light fixtures at the top. More roll-away benches were lined against one of the walls out of the way from the mob of students and some faculty members. From behind the grating that separated the lunch ladies from the hungered masses, Madison could also make out the sounds of shouted instructions and large pots clattering around. All in all, the entire cafeteria was a fairly simple set-up that wasn't made out to be very fancy, nor did she guess anyone expected it to be so.

"Right, Pines. Here you go," the crinkle of paper snapped Madison out of her examination of the room. She gladly took her schedule and took a quick peek to find out where her first class would be located. _Okay, Literature and Composition_, she read, _how_ _fun. _Folding the schedule she gave a quick smile to the student volunteer and said a quick, "Thanks," before turning to navigate the hallways and find her first class. As she melded into the crowds of other students, the one with the red-hair and glasses was watching her walk away.

"Pines," he muttered. "Where do I know that name?"

* * *

As it turns out, Madison quickly figured out that middle school, Ashland Middle School in particular, was not the best location in the world for high class respectability, or for distinguished students. Discipline here had to be at an all-time low, or the one of the lowest in the state. It was an obstacle course of backpacks, legs, and for some reason the occasional sport ball being tossed over the heads of other students.

"Getting to class should not be this hard," Madison muttered as she ducked a sailing basketball.

"Go long!" cried one of the kids who had tossed it.

"Wrong sport ya idiot!"

She checked the room number again for the Lit. and Composition class. It said 309, and as she looked down the hall she spotted it, right in the path of what appeared to be a clique of probably eight grade girls. Madison could smell their perfume and Heaven knew what else from her spot against the wall. _It must be an eighth grader thing to douse yourself in perfume_, she thought. But it was now or never and time was ticking away before the first bell would ring. The last thing Madison wanted was to make a bad impression at a new school, and in the seventh grade for that matter. She just had to get past the vicious group of carnivorous cannibals, also known as the eighth grade girls.

Hands clutching the straps of her backpack she fought through the throngs of kids to make it to Room 309. Eyes front she passed by the girls, but they didn't even give her as much as a sideways glance as she walked by. Madison did make the mistake however of taking in a breath as she went by, inhaling the mixed up fumes from their perfumes and nearly gagged. Holding what she had left of air in her lungs the girl continued on and quickly slipped through the door of Room 309. The pre-teen took in a big breath of fresher air and sighed out in relief, glad to be out of the crowded hall way. She never was that comfortable around crowds to begin with, but she figured she'd adapt to it here.

Madison quickly found a seat in the second row of desks as more of her classmates filtered into the room. As all of the other kids mingled around, still chatting like birds Madison pulled out one of her new notebooks and a Sharpie to mark the cover as her literature notebook. She figured later on she would add on a more artistic appeal to it, but for now she'd keep it simple. Adding a final stroke of the permanent marker to her cover the girl smiled and took a glance around the room, taking in the fact that she was actually sitting in a desk, in what she hoped would be her permanent school. A trio of boys was in the back corner laughing at a joke one of them had just told. Some girls were already gathering their desks together to form a tighter group and were chatting about books and magazines they had read over the summer. One of them pulled out a small bag and presented her friends with what looked like a rainbow in a tube. They gasped in interest, and Madison leaned forward with similar interest.

"It's part of the newest line! You can get different colors like this and each has a different flavor," the girl said, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her friends muttered excitedly but before Madison could figure out what they were saying, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. The blonde girl tucked away her bag, shushing her friends and focusing her attention to the front of the classroom. Madison did the same, as did most of the other kids in the classroom. A member of the trio of boys took the seat in front of her, taking off his tan jacket to hang it on the back of his seat just as the teacher entered the classroom.

"Alright distinguished students take your seats and quiet down," the teacher said in a slightly English accented voice. He was a young looking adult, with short golden brown hair. His outfit consisted of a white dress shirt with a black vest covering it, black slacks and dress shoes completing the look. As the teacher looked around the classroom to examine his motley crew of a class, Madison noticed his eyes were as dark as obsidian. The man's mouth twitched into what she assumed was a smile and he pulled out his chair from behind the desk. In a fluid motion the chair spun so that the back of it faced the same way as the desks and he plopped down into it, folding his arms across the back of it and resting his head on his arms.

The class was silent, not completely sure how to react to their teacher. He simply sat and examined each of them in the awkward silence. The kids in the front row fidgeted nervously, avoiding eye contact. The man's black eyes raked over each of them in turn and each time the student he locked onto would break contact. Eventually the eyes settled onto her. Both Madison and the teacher stared at each other, but Madison for whatever reason did not want to back down. The minute the man sat down she could tell he was up to something. The entire staff here was all kinds of weird and crazy. No doubt this guy would be no different, and this staring contest proved he was up to something. So Madison toughened up and maintained eye contact. Black stared through her brown eyes and neither of them backed down. Finally after what seemed like forever, the man smiled and blinked, breaking away from the staring contest. The awkward atmosphere vanished immediately and the room hesitantly relaxed. Their teacher chuckled for a moment before getting up from his seat to move towards the whiteboard at the front of the room.

"Interesting lot you are" he said lightly. The class exchanged confused glances. Their teacher began writing down some things on the whiteboard in elegant cursive writing, stepping aside so they could all read it.

"Well, now that we've gotten over our awkward first moments of class it's time for introductions. First of all, I am your Literature and Composition teacher. You can call me Mr. Williamson, or 'sir', or even 'magister' if you so wish," he began, twirling the black dry erase marker in his hand.

"Umm, Mr. Williamson," a voice from the back asked. Madison twisted in her seat to see it was the blonde girl she'd been listening to earlier. Williamson nodded to her, giving her permission to continue.

"What does 'magister' mean?" she continued.

"Good question. I should have explained earlier that I took a lot of Latin classes in college. To answer you, 'magister' is basically a word for 'teacher'. You'll find throughout the school year that I make it a habit to teach some Latin to you youngsters even if you don't want to," Mr. Williamson said. The kid in front of Madison chuckled quietly.

"Moving on from that short language lesson we're going to have a little literacy inquiry. So who can tell me-" the door of the classroom opened suddenly, interrupting whatever he was about to ask. A student attempted to quietly walk in unnoticed. Mr. Williamson raised an eyebrow at the kid, who sheepishly ducked his head and merely held out a yellow slip of paper. Madison recognized the red hair of the bespectacled boy and remembered that he had been the one that had given her schedule to her. Mr. Williamson said nothing, merely taking the yellow paper and slipping it into his pocket. The redhead took the desk seat on the right of Madison's, and pulled out a notebook, just as she had before class. Their teacher cleared his throat to re-capture the class' attention and began again.

"As I was saying before, who can tell me about the author H. G. Wells?" A few hands went up, including those of the boy in front of Madison and the blonde girl in the back. Madison stayed her hand. Despite the fact that her dad was an author, she'd never really been all that great at classical literature stuff or writing. She was more like her dad in the fact that she preferred sciences and math over the liberal arts. Mr. Williamson's black eyes ranged over the students who had their hands up, until he eventually settled upon the boy in the front.

"Alright then Mr..?"

"Hershel sir. Alex Hershel," the kid said. The man's obsidian eyes seemed to gleam at that and he held back a smile.

"Right, go ahead Alex,"

"H. G. Wells was famous for writing literature that involved time travel and science fiction elements, right?" Alex said. Their teacher nodded.

"Correct, though more accurately he was just famous for those novels. He wrote a lot about social commentary, politics and other genres besides just science fiction. Some say though that he is the 'father of science fiction', and quite rightly too," the man reached over to his desk and plucked up a small paperback book with an old cover that looked like something straight out of the 50's. _War of the Worlds_ was scrawled in yellow font at the top, with the author's name in white down below.

"This," Williamson said, brandishing the book in front of them, "is one of the books we will be starting the year with. As we go on we'll read from various authors. Each quarter with me you will also be given a book report project on a book of your choice. I'll be getting that information to you in a project packet next class. For now though I want you to each grab a textbook from the back closet. You'll be working on a few short response questions of a passage on page 618, due at the end of the period. Chop chop little ducklings,"

The next forty five minutes was spent with all of Madison's class busily scrawling out their short response answers, occasionally whispering to one another what they thought the answer to number five was, or the meaning of a word in the question. Mr. Williamson would at times get up from his desk in the front and walk around the room checking on their progress, then return to his seat and pull up a book. At one time Madison glanced up at him while he was reading to clarify something and she could see _Good Omens_ printed on the white and black cover. Finally though, just as Madison finished up her opinion on the author's choice of describing blue curtains, the bell rang to signal the end of the period. Kids scrambled to gather their papers together and handed them to Mr. Williamson as they exited the room. When Madison placed her lined paper on the pile of others her teacher gave her a small smile.

"I hope you have an eventful rest of the day," he said.

"Uh, thanks," she muttered and slipped out the door and into the hall to once again face the huddled masses.

* * *

Truth be told the rest of Madison's day was the complete opposite of eventful. After her Literature class she had to rush across campus to make it in time for her science class. Nothing interesting had happened, though one of her science classmates came close to knocking over a beaker filled with unknown chemicals, which had then led the teacher into a twenty minute long discussion on safety in the lab and how she'd toss them out of the room the next time they caused an incident. The class merely sat in bored silence heads propped up by their hands and consistently checking the clock, hoping that it would ring. Madison couldn't exactly blame them. Their current class was just before lunch break and it was a well known fact that middle schoolers tended to drop like flies before that time. It was a miracle that most of them were surviving up to that point anyways.

After what had seemed like an eternity however the bell rang. The science teacher quickly told them their assignment for the night as they hurriedly packed their school belongings, though nobody was listening. Madison joined the crowd upon exiting her science class and made her way (once again across the campus) to the cafeteria. The lunch room was slowly filling with students who were no-so-eagerly buying food from the facilities. Madison decided to play it safe, and only grabbed a plastic encased salad as well as an apple. After paying she looked around for a place to sit and saw that most of everyone else had opted to take their lunches outside. Deciding to do the same, the girl exited one of the cafeteria's side doors and found an empty lunch table to sit at and watch her classmates. Some of the kids sitting around her she had seen before, either in one of her classes or when she had passed them on the way to another class. She even saw the group of girls and two members of the boy trio from her Lit. class earlier.

As she watched them, the redheaded kid passed by carrying one of the school lunch trays. The bigger of the two boys pointed and murmured something. Both began to snicker quietly and Madison felt a twinge of anger. These guys obviously were the bullying type and the ginger kid would undoubtedly become a future target for them.

"Hey Shaun! Over here!" A voice called. The ginger kid, Shaun, picked up his pace and eagerly trotted over to another table where a black haired kid in a hoodie was waving him over. Madison smiled, glad to know that that kid wouldn't be a solitary figure during lunch. She knew that kids like him always got the worst luck during lunch if they were alone. But having a friend around changed the rules a bit. Satisfied with this, she went back to her salad and pulled out her new science textbook to read up on the chapter they had been assigned. The brunette was so caught up with her reading that she failed to notice two of the Boy Trio group pass by her table, heading for Shaun's. It was when she moved to turn the page of the book that a two sharp cries of indignation called out, as well as a loud thump.

"Lookie what we've got here Mike. Two geeks from Geekville," one of the bullies taunted. Madison looked up and was startled to see Shaun's friend on the ground, while Shaun was covering away from Mike. Other students heard them and began to look up from their lunches. Mike glared down at Shaun who looked like he wanted to just disappear into the ground. Unfortunately for him that was not an option. The kid in the hoodie however had a different opinion.

"Why don't you guys just leave us alone," he said angrily, picking himself up from the ground. Some of the other kids who were watching the spectacle took worried glances at each other. Madison took this as a sign that standing up to these guys wasn't the best idea. She was right when Mike, the larger of the two, gripped the black haired kid by the front of his hoodie, nearly lifting him up off the ground. The kid stifled a yelp as the two came practically nose to nose.

"Why don't you just crawl back to where you came from twerp," Mike growled back.

"P-put him down," Mike turned to see Shaun, who was desperately trying to look brave. The big kid scoffed and with a free hand shoved him back to the ground. That was the final straw. Madison had so far been just watching, but she could do so no longer. She'd always hated bullies even if she'd never been teased herself. To hell with a good first impression anymore. Grabbing her uneaten apple she clambered on top of the table for a better vantage point. Testing the weight of it, Madison began swinging her arm around.

"And a one, and-a two, and-a " with a massive effort, Madison hurled the apple forward. The fruit sailed in the air thanks to Madison's years of softball experience and with a loud _thunk_ came into contact with Mike's skull. The students who were outdoors gasped in surprise, not knowing where the projectile had come from. Mike spun around looking for who had tossed something at him. His angry gaze fell onto Madison's. Mouth set, she stood on top of a lunch table above the heads of her classmates glaring.

"Put him down,"

* * *

**A/N:** Two months later, I give you a 3 thousand word chapter. Holy beans this was difficult to get through, but I did it. Next chapter should be out sooner, since I don't have as big of a plot point to hit with that one. Well, maybe I do. Dunno yet. We'll see. Read and Review! Stay classy guys.


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